


Adjusting With You

by captain_oblivious



Category: MCU
Genre: Angst but it’s worth it, Character Study, Falcon & Winter Soldier, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Post-Engame, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-13 20:50:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18948400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captain_oblivious/pseuds/captain_oblivious
Summary: Bucky is always thrown into unwanted situations and problems, but now he’s willing to take and tackle more— if it means that Sam will still be by his side.





	Adjusting With You

**Author's Note:**

> ah! first fanfic, like ever? kinda shocking for me but hopefully this first chapter ( aka buckys jambled memories ) isn’t as sloppy as it seems. this is basically a character study on my favorite assassin and what i hope will happen for his new show!
> 
> i didn’t check for spelling errors, cuz fuck that

Two weeks.

 

They can't even wait two, goddamn, weeks.

 

Sure, things had been rough in the five apocalyptic years after the snap, —and despite not being present for it Bucky held no doubt about it— but there was a line between scavenging and other petty crimes than world decimation and control. And of course, it was a terrorist organization, it always was. Already planning their next target before planet earth could take a rest to breathe after the death of Tony Stark.

 

Bucky didn't really like Tony but he sure as hell appreciated him, even now, he wasn't sure about how he felt when it came to the Iron Man. The two very opposite feelings clashing whenever the man's name was mentioned. Especially two weeks after a funeral that he didn't think he'd be attending.

 

"It's what he would of wanted, she wouldn't of invited you if it wasn't." Sam had said. Insisting that Bucky showed up, even we he declined both the invitations he received from his best friend and now was declining one from his best friend's best friend.

 

He doubted what she said, supposedly from how Falcon put it. Pepper, Tony's wife, it must of been her trying to do right in between the burning hot tears that scarred her face— trying to move on and for the better. Nobody in their right mind would invite the man who murdered their parents, who caused them so much suffering and grief, to their own damn funeral. Especially Tony. Bucky was beyond reluctant to agree, a sour bile in the back of his throat appeared when he did. It told him, and it told him again, 'You Don't Belong There'.

 

Despite originally telling him no, Sam was still the one who picked him, sparing him the last minute trouble of trying to find a ride from anyone else. He had commented on how Bucky was, "Kinda underdressed." But Bucky immediately shot back with a, "Didn't think I was coming. . . Pretty sure I don't own a suit, anyways."

 

Sam chuckled, "At least it's black." He had said, but other than that had left it at just that, playing some music on the radio as they began their unnecessarily long car ride. To the middle of nowhere, where the savior of all life used to reside. It was a small peace he felt in the comfort of Sam that came before the storm, he was thankful for it.

 

He was silent after the funeral, not like he wasn't before— Bucky always had a reserved and respectful part of him, but now it was just uncomfortable. Watching what's left and what's new of Tony's family grieve, seeing familiar faces from the fight against the Mad Titan and his army, wearing a different shade of agony. He felt bad for not knowing their names, or their relations with the billionaire, but Bucky did know Steve. And he knew Sam too. So he stuck by them. Pressing his hands in his pockets and just wishing he could shrink up and disappear.

 

There was a guy that could do that, and Bucky actually did know him— Scott was his name was. He was probably here, some place or another, but Bucky didn't feel like going out of his way to look. Plus there was always a chance the man didn't want to be found, he could of been hurting just like Bucky was. Loathing every second he had to stand here and pretend that he wasn't the monster that he really was. A monster that Tony saw. Maybe it was just him. . .

 

And later, a terrible day took an even worse turn. When Captain— Steve, signed up and suited up. Deciding that he'd be the one with the heavy responsibility of returning all the infinity stones to their rightful time. It was still kind of a mind-fuck, the sloppy exchange of information that he and Steve had about their recent pasts. A couple days later and Bucky was still trying to process that the world had spent five years without him, without any of them.

 

"What was it like?"

 

"Sad. . . and dark. Nobody could think or see clearly, the world was pretty much in chaos. But despite it, they did their best to adapt and cope."

 

"Hm."

 

"What about you, Buck?"

 

"Nothing. . . It was just cold."

 

Bucky knew Steve, curious as always, was probably itching for more of an answer. But there was none to give. With his body turning into nothing but ash, it was like all the heat has been sucked from his skin. Only to be pumped full of ice. He hated the cold, and the nightmares that often came with it. Reminders of the things he's done and the things that were done to him. But the cold of being nothing, it was so much different.

 

And then. . . It was over. His body was sore, there was some throbbing muscle behind his eyes that Bucky didn't even know that he had. He slowly rose from the dirt, coughing, gagging, and the only thing protecting his eyes from the burning white sky was the messy brown hair cascading over his face. There was a distant nausea that could creep further, but Bucky fought through it. Rising to his feet.

 

He had two minutes to breathe. Trying to remember what the last thing that happened was, and if he really did just die. Was this hell? Bucky surely was enough of a sinner to get damned to those eternal flames, but this place, wherever it was, felt like no hell. It felt peaceful and warm— and then came the sparks.

 

The ring that encased him, engulfing him like he was the broken ship being dragged down to the icy sea. It was thing after thing, problem after problem, his mind didn't get a break until he landed on another flat of soil. But this time, it was one he was familiar with. It was Wakanda.

 

Then before he knew it there had been another gun placed in his hand, and the weapon of war stepped through the sparkly ring of life and death. Moving. Something he still couldn't get past, the fact that he was alive again. . . And always left with another war to fight.

 

Bucky supposed fighting for his life ( countless times ) was easier than trying to fix it. He was constantly thrown into situations and told to adjust, but watching Steve go, and knowing deep down that he wouldn't come back— it hurt him. Especially when nobody else had seen it coming.

 

They had all heard what Bruce, or Professor Hulk ( Bucky guessed ) said. "For him, he'll be gone as long as he wants. For us, it'll be a few seconds." How else was he supposed to react when he saw that little glint in Steve's eye. Someone who Bucky has known for all his life, he'd practically got the features of that punk's face mapped out. He couldn't help but to frown, he knew that Steve was going to leave him and that there was nothing he could do about it.

 

"I'll miss you," Bucky manages to say. Trying his best to at least look like he means it, and Steve understands, Bucky can tell in those pitiful eyes.

 

"Try not to do anything stupid while I'm gone."

 

"How can I? . . .You're taking all the stupid with you."

 

They hugged after that, fingertips gripped into the others clothes. Bucky didn't feel satisfied, if anything this small moment of embrace hurt him more. He didn't want to let go, he wanted to bury his face into that stupid suit Steve was wearing and ask him to stay, for him.

 

But Steve had already made his choice, and Bucky let out a sigh when he noticed the wrinkled aftermath of it sitting down on a bench. Sam was the one who approached, and Sam was the one who can back with the shield.

 

"You deserve it," Bucky remembered saying to the new Captain America as he walked back— Sam really did, and Bucky felt no jealousy or anger in seeing him with the spangled dinner-plate. Sam smiled, a nervous one at that. His arm didn't rest heavy with the added weight, though his eyes did when he looked down at it, but he looked ever-so relieved at Bucky's words.

 

"Thanks. . . Barnes."

 

They didn't talk after that until the ride back. Sam put the shield down for the first time since he received it, placing it in the trunk of his car as Bucky got himself settled in the passenger.

 

"You're tense." Bucky said matter-of-factly when Sam entered, sitting behind the wheel and buckling himself up. Sam looked over at the soldier, raising a brow.

 

"I am not," He argued, putting the car in reverse, and pulling away from the dirt driveway of Stark's house.

 

"I also know that you're lying."

 

"Wait. . . You can seriously tell that?"

 

Bucky grinned a bit, shaking his head in response. "No it was a. . . Well, it's just obvious. Let's say that."

 

Sam shrugged, his expression suddenly turning unreadable. Bucky tried not to care much, almost feeling that Sam grew aware of his vulnerability around him and decided to shut it down. It was hard though, and the toll of not having Steve to accompany him anymore was beginning to weigh. Bucky realized that Sam was probably the closest person he had left, other than T'Challa maybe, and that wasn't really saying much.

 

"I'm not sure how I feel about being Captain. . . It doesn't feel right, and if I'm saying that then what will everyone else think." Sam admits. Subconsciously glancing back to the backseat, as if he'd be able to see the shield there. Bucky's glance followed, and when it did Sam took notice of where his own eyes were and quickly looked back to the road.

 

"It's what he wanted, he wouldn't of given the shield to you if he didn't trust you."

 

Sam chuckled, "You're starting to sound like me."

 

And Bucky did the same, glancing over at the driver and meeting his gaze. "You give good advice. You should take it sometimes."

 

There was times that Bucky caught himself thinking about Sam after that, because even though he had taken a break from the spotlight— he knew that it was engulfing Sam whole. Part of him wanted to check up on the new Captain America, but if Sam really wanted Bucky's help then he would of asked.

 

'He's probably too stubborn,' Bucky told himself about a week later. Trying to find some sort of justification in why Sam hadn't called or reached out. 'That or he's really got this handled.'

 

But then a week after that the thoughts got a little worse, and Bucky blamed it on the sheer boredom of his new living. The transformer into the little demons that stuck in his mind, like 'You shouldn't of assumed that he cared. He isn't Steve.' Or even, 'He's got other people he cares about, and other people that he trusts more than you.'

 

That last one stung the worse, and all because two weeks prior he had decided to himself that Sam might as well be all he had left. It was a stupid decision really, Bucky knew that. They weren't close in any way, in fact they'd barely just become friends. Finally putting their differences aside to stand together. . . only to end up dying for five years, but that was besides the point. Point was, Bucky shouldn't of felt as comforted as he did when Sam's hand rested on his shoulder— realizing how bad he hurt and comforting after Stark's funeral.

 

But life always did like to prove him wrong. This time it came in the form of fury— Nick Fury.


End file.
